A long-lost billionaire’s will leads to a baby pact. Only from New York Times bestselling author Elizabeth Bevarly!
The grandfather Hannah Robinson never knew has left her billions! If she becomes pregnant within six months. Hannah yearns for safety and stability. So it’s ironic that danger-loving adrenaline junkie Yeager Novak is the perfect candidate to father her baby. Yeager’s certainly up for the task—but only if they conceive the old-fashioned way while on an epic adventure.
It’s the perfect arrangement. Until Hannah realizes she wants more than a family. And until Yeager realizes the dangers of risking his heart...
“So, Mr. Novak. Have you ever thought about donating your sperm to a good cause?”
“Excuse me?” Yaeger asked.
“Your sperm,” Hannah said, enunciating the word more clearly this time. “Have you ever thought about donating it?”
“Uh…no.”
“I mean, if you would consider it—donating it to me, I mean—I’d sign any kind of legal documents you want to relieve you of all obligations for any offspring that might, um, you know, spring off me. I’d really appreciate it.”
“Hannah, I…I’m flattered, but it’s not a good idea for me to do something like that.”
She looked crestfallen. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not good father material.”
At this, she looked aghast. Almost comically so. “Are you kidding me? You’re incredible father material. You’re smart and interesting and brave and funny and well traveled and smart and, holy cow, you’re gorgeous.”
He bit back a smile at that. “Thanks. But those aren’t things that necessarily make a good father.”
“Maybe not, but they make an excellent breeder.”
* * *
Baby in the Making
is part of the Accidental Heirs series:
First they find their fortunes, then they find love
Baby in the Making
Elizabeth Bevarly
ELIZABETH BEVARLY is the award-winning, New York Times bestselling author of more than seventy books, novellas and screenplays. Although she has called home exotic places like San Juan, Puerto Rico and Haddonfield, New Jersey, she’s now happily settled back in her native Kentucky with her husband and son. When she’s not writing, she’s binge-watching documentaries on Netflix, spending too much time on Reddit or making soup out of whatever she finds in the freezer. Visit her at www.elizabethbevarly.com for news about current and upcoming projects, for book, music and film recommendations, for recipes, and for lots of other fun stuff.
For Eli,
My greatest creation ever.
Love you, Peanut.
Contents
Really, it wasn’t the gaping hole in the shirt and pants that troubled Hannah Robinson most. It wasn’t the bloodstain, either. She’d seen worse. No, what troubled her most was how little Yeager Novak seemed to be bothered by the six tidy stitches binding his flesh just north of the waistband of his silk boxers. Then again, as far as Yeager’s garments were concerned, this was par for the course. Such was life sewing for a tailor whose most profitable client made his living at cheating death—and planning similar travel adventures for others—then brought in what was left of his clothing after the most recent near miss to have them mended. Or, in the case of the shirt, completely recreated from scratch.
Yeager towered over her from her current position kneeling before him, tape measure in hand. But then, he towered over her when she was standing, too. Shoving a handful of coal-black hair off his forehead, he gazed down at her with eyes the color of sapphires and said, “I’ll never let a bull get that close to me again.” He darted his gaze from the stitches on his torso to the ruined clothing on the floor. “That was just a little too close for comfort.”
Hannah blew a dark blond curl out of her eyes and pushed her reading glasses higher on her nose. “That’s what you said last year when you ran with the bulls.”
He looked puzzled. “I did?”
“Yes. It was the first time you came to see us here at Cathcart and Quinn, because your previous tailor told you to take a hike when you brought in one too many of his masterpieces to be mended.” She arched a brow in meaningful reminder. “Except when you were in Pamplona last July, you escaped into a cantina before the bull was able to do more than tear the leg of your trousers.”
“Right,” he said, remembering. “That was where I met Jimena. Who came back to my hotel with me while I changed my clothes. And didn’t get back into them for hours.” His expression turned sublime. “I probably should have sent that bull a thank-you note.”
Even after knowing him for a year, Hannah was still sometimes surprised by the frankness with which Yeager talked about